


Fireworks

by formalizing



Series: Tumblr Writing [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Practice Kissing, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formalizing/pseuds/formalizing
Summary: When Sam gets up the courage to ask his brother for kissing advice, he’s not sure what he expects–maybe a little laughter, a strange look, eventually, hopefully, some actual advice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Tumblr](http://all-these-formalities.tumblr.com/post/140447668709/someone-on-my-dash-was-talking-about-first-kisses).

When Sam gets up the courage to ask his brother for kissing advice, he’s not sure what he expects–maybe a little laughter, a strange look, eventually, _hopefully_ , some actual advice. Because his first dance is less than a week away, and he could really use some.

He definitely doesn’t expect Dean to say, “All right, well, show me what you got.”

Sam blinks a few times.

He rubs his suddenly sweaty palms against the knees of his jeans and blinks again.

“What, you mean, like, _kiss you_?”

“Yeah, Sam, I mean ‘like, kiss me.’ How am I gonna help you if I don’t even know where you’re at?”

Sam doesn’t respond except to clench his fingers tighter around his kneecaps, and Dean just rolls his eyes and clicks the TV off before tossing the remote on the coffee table and turning to face him.

“What’s the big deal? I’m talkin’ a closed-mouth, no tongue, eyes open kind of kiss, here, Sam. That’s the kind of kiss you give your grandma. Or, y’would, if we had one. So just get outta your head, pucker up, and lay one—” 

Sam surges forward and clumsily presses his lips to his brother’s before he can talk himself out of it. He moves too fast and too far, just barely misses bumping noses and still makes impact so hard he thinks he can feel Dean’s teeth knock painfully against his through their lips.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean says, muffled against his lips as he pushes Sam back to arm’s length with one hand and reaches the other up like he has to check for a split lip. They’re a bit swollen—even puffier than usual—but he’s not bleeding. “Easy there, tiger.”

“You _said_ to go for it,” Sam says.

“Yeah, well, if I’m a girl, I’m telling you it’s late and maybe you should take me home right about now.”

Sam groans and covers his face with both hands.

“Oh _god_ ,” he mutters, can feel his face flaming against his fingers. “I just had my first kiss— _with my brother_ —and it wasn’t even any good!”

“Your first—seriously?”

Sam looks up long enough to shoot a glare at Dean that dares him to laugh, but Dean holds his hands up in surrender.

“All right. Tell you what, that doesn’t even count as a kiss.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Nah,” Dean says with a wave of his hand. “It ain’t a real kiss until you close your eyes.”

Sam bites his lip. He definitely didn’t close his eyes during that train wreck—if he had, they might’ve wound up with broken noses.

He feels somehow better and worse at the same time.

“I told you I don’t know anything about this. I should just call her and cancel and—”

“No, hey, c’mon,” Dean says, grabbing Sam’s shoulders. “You can do this, it just takes practice. Listen, most girls wanna start out slow anyway. So first you gotta get a bit more cozy.”

Dean’s slips one arm around his shoulders and drags Sam closer than Sam would ever think to pull a girl on the first date, so close that they’re touching almost all the way from hips to knees. Sam doesn’t know what to do with his own hands, so he clasps them tightly together and stares down at them, wills himself not to blush any worse than he already is.

“Then maybe you get her attention focused on you.”

Dean’s fingers touch Sam’s cheek and Sam turns wide eyes on his brother. Dean slides them slowly up the curve of Sam’s face and into his hair, curling it behind Sam’s ear with a grin.

“Chicks love it when you touch their hair.”

Sam’s automatic response is to nod like he’s making note of the advice, but Dean’s hand is cradling the back of his skull, and Sam can’t think past the way Dean’s holding his eyes, drawing him even closer.

“And you wanna lean in slow,” Dean says, voice soft. Sam tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, but his mouth feels dry. “Look in her eyes, or maybe at her lips, like you wanna know what they taste like.”

Sam can’t help but do just that, eyes dipping down to Dean’s mouth. His lips look pillowy and a little pink. If he didn’t have half a day’s worth of stubble on his face, he’d almost look like he had a girl’s mouth. Dean’s still grinning just a little at the corners, and Sam doesn’t even have to pretend that he wants to know what he tastes like. 

Dean’s so close Sam can feel his breath against his skin. Sam’s chest feels tight and empty at the same time, like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“You let it build up until you’re close enough, and then just—”

Dean’s lips are soft when they touch Sam’s, feather-light and barely there, and Sam has to take a sharp breath through his nose, unclasping his hands to bring one up to rest one on Dean’s shoulder, like he has to hold on.

He always thought the description of ‘fireworks’ had to be exaggerated—how could just pressing your lips together feel anything like _that_?—but that’s exactly what comes to mind. It’s like warm tingles everywhere they’re connected, mostly dry but a little damp at the seams of their mouths, like their lips could part for one another at any second. When Dean moves against him, Sam would swear he can feel sparks just under his skin.

He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, doesn’t notice until Dean pulls back far enough to give them breathing room and they flutter open again, blinking in wonder.

It’s quiet between them for a minute before Sam whispers, “I closed my eyes. Does that mean it counts?”

Dean’s tongue curls over his lower lip for just a second, like he’s tasting Sam there, and Sam’s eyes helplessly track the movement.

“I, uh. I could be wrong about that,” Dean murmurs, and Sam frowns for a second, but Dean still has his hand in Sam’s hair, hasn’t moved to put a respectable distance between them. “Could be that it’s not a _real_ first kiss until you use your tongues?”

“Do you—” Sam’s tongue feels twisted up as he tries to speak. He slides his shaky hand up from Dean’s shoulder to his neck, tracing his jawline with his fingertips, ensuring Dean’s attention is very firmly on Sam. He’s always been a quick study. “D’you think you could show me that kind, too?”

“Well,” Dean says, drawing out the word that lets Sam see the wet tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth.

Sam’s lips part in anticipation as Dean leans in again, gets so close to pressing their mouths back together. Instead, he only darts his tongue over Sam’s lower lip, just barely teases Sam’s eager tongue, only to pull away as Sam opens wide for him.

He smirks when Sam pouts just a little.

“Y’sure, Sam? That one’ll definitely count.”

And he says it light, like he’s still teasing, but there’s something in his eyes that says he knows the name of the line they’re about to cross.

Sam kitten-licks at Dean’s upper lip, right in the middle of the deep cupid’s bow shape of it, traces the roof of his mouth with his tongue after, like he might be able to somehow taste the tiny traces of his brother.

“I’m sure,” he says, tries to sound more confident than he feels. “So just—just get outta your head, pucker up, and—”

Dean’s tongue is against his lips before he can finish, and after that, he forgets the words anyway.


End file.
